Here I sit
Beneath this tree
What do you think
Soon drops on me?

A tick!
A tick!
They’re everywhere!

Little things
Like pencil dots
They go wherever
They should not

Ticks!
Oh ticks!
I hate them all!

Ticks!
Dratted ticks!
Wish they’d die when they fall!

April 1, 1988
Written at the bus stop while sitting under a tree during Spring.

Tags: Poetry

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